The market was noisy, but after the stuffy, cramped little room at the inn, the shouts of the merchants, the neighing of the horses, and the smells of food seemed like a breath of freedom to Thomas. He shifted the wrapped cured ham to a more comfortable hold, pressing it to his chest.
The young man turned away from the market stalls, intending to head back, when a loud, squealing flock of children flew right at him from behind a loaded cart.
They were all skinny and smeared in soot, rushing by with wild laughter. One of them, a boy of about ten, slammed into Thomas at full speed, miraculously not knocking him off his feet. The package of cheese fell to the ground, and he bent down to pick it up.
"Hey, careful, you little rascals!" the young man called after them without a drop of malice, smiling indulgently.
Looking at their skinny silhouettes disappearing into the crowd, Thomas even regretted that he hadn't managed to slip them a couple of copper coins. Or so he thought until he began to straighten his cloak and his hand accidentally slipped to the inner pocket of his doublet, where he felt a slit.
"No..." he breathed out, frantically searching his other pockets.
The family watch had been there. If it had been a purse of coins, he would have just walked on. The poor needed the money more, and he would have survived the loss. But right now, the watch was the only thread connecting him to his home, a memory of the family he had left for an indefinite time.
His amber eyes darted through the crowd and caught the red crown of that very boy's head.
"Hey! Stop!" he yelled.
Thomas dashed after the children.
"Give the watch back! Stop, I'm telling you!"
But the little thieves were elusive. They deftly slipped through the crowd and jumped over discarded crates.
The young man completely failed to notice how the noisy market was left behind, replaced by dark alleyways.
The boy darted into an alley between two high brick walls. Thomas flew in right after him, gasping for breath. He ran a few more steps and braked sharply, nearly slipping.
A dead end. Ahead was nothing but a wall and a jumble of broken barrels. The children were nowhere to be seen. It was as if they had dissolved.
"Hey!" Thomas called out, breathing heavily. His voice drowned in the musty air. "Leave the watch. I'll give you money. Do you hear me?"
But the response was silence.
Behind him, blocking the exit to the street, three large male figures detached themselves from the walls. Their faces couldn't be made out in the gloom, but Thomas saw the glint of a blade and heard hoarse breathing.
"What a frisky pup," came the low, mocking voice of one of them.
"Ran right into our caring hands himself. The captain will be thrilled with such fresh meat."
When the first recruiter reached out his dirty hands to the collar of his cloak with a smirk, Thomas sharply dodged the attack, letting the opponent pass by him, and deftly delivered a hard elbow strike under the ribs, smashing his face into the wall.
The recruiter groaned, bending double and covering his face with his hands. The other two froze in surprise for a moment. From this neatly built boy in clean clothes, they expected hysterics or an attempt to buy them off, but certainly not such resistance.
"You little scum!" the second thug howled, rushing at Thomas with a club.
Thomas intercepted the opponent's armed hand, twisted his wrist, and delivered a short jab to his Adam's apple.
"Where did this pup learn to throw punches like that?!" the third one wheezed, backing away and putting a knife out in front of him.
But despite his good training, he was at a disadvantage in size and numbers. While he was tossing one thug away, the second, having already recovered from the blow, tackled him from behind. A heavy body pinned Thomas to the ground, knocking the air out of his lungs. In the ensuing scuffle, someone roughly yanked Thomas by the collar of his shirt. The silver chain on his neck pulled tight and snapped, painfully cutting his skin, and the family signet ring flew off into the mud, unnoticed.
Thomas resisted desperately, growling through clenched teeth, but his arms were roughly twisted behind his back and bound with coarse rope, then he was jerked to his knees.
Stepping leisurely through the puddles, another figure approached them. Tall and stooped, he loomed over the young man. A long scar crossed his face, and his round, unblinking eyes looked like a fish's; a nauseating stench of tobacco and something else emanated from him.
The leader squatted right in front of Thomas. His dirty, calloused hand shot out from under his cloak and gripped the young man's face with an iron hold. His fingers ran roughly over his cheekbones and pressed into his jaw, forcing Thomas to lift his head.
The youth tried to pull away in disgust, but the grip was stronger. He involuntarily shivered under his sticky, evaluating gaze.
"What skin..." the man said, his fish eyes narrowing slyly. "Soft and velvety. Like a young lady's. You're no ordinary port urchin, even if you dressed up in plain clothes."
Then he took the silver watch out of his pocket, turning it in his hand, examining the engraving with the family crest.
One of the thugs, young and with a bloody nose, wiping his face with his sleeve, stepped closer, looking over the boss's shoulder.
"Hey, boss, he's some rich kid!" the thug shouted enthusiastically. "Let's lock him in the basement and write a letter to his daddy, make him cough up a thousand pounds!"
The leader slowly turned his head and delivered a heavy backhand slap to him. The man flew to the side, whining pitifully.
"Idiot!" he gritted out. "If his daddy finds out we have his pup, a regiment of the Royal Guard will march into our docks tomorrow, and we'll all be strung up in the square."
He turned his eerie gaze back to Thomas, smirking crookedly.
"We're better off taking him to the Madam on St. James's Street. She'll give five hundred pounds for this little angel right now, hide him so well his own mother wouldn't find him, and we won't have any trouble."
"Get him on his feet," the leader threw to his men, pocketing the watch again. "And gag him. If you ruin his pretty face, I'll smash your mugs in myself."
Strong hands jerked Thomas up from his knees. The young man thrashed in an attempt to escape, but to no avail; a rag was already stuffed into his mouth, and darkness swallowed him.